


King Size

by IMAgentMI, PFLAgentYork (Legendaerie)



Series: Post-PFL RP AU [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 04:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13023336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendaerie/pseuds/PFLAgentYork
Summary: After the fall of Project Freelancer, Carolina and York are building a new life for themselves. Current objective: A good night's sleep.





	King Size

**Author's Note:**

> Canon is too sad - welcome to our alternate universe where they have a happier ending.

He’s still thinking of names for the truck but there's something about the weird suspension and how it makes the old machine bounce down their driveway that reminds York of driving a Warthog on a mission. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other keeps jumping between fiddling with the radio, checking the mattress in the rear view mirror, and holding Carolina’s hand. She’s got the sets of sheets in her lap, and has already opened one package, brushing her fingers over the linen. He tears his eye away from her to appreciate the sight of the house as they approach. _Their_ house.

Delta’s voice comes over the radio as they drive into his wireless range. “-- _count is three and two. And the pitch… line drive down the third base line, it stays fair_ \--” and York presses a button to speak.

“D, it’s us. All clear?”

“ _All clear. Welcome back. I have some suggestions for the best route in which to carry your new purchase through the--”_

“We got a king size.”

A pause. The trunk bounces along the gravel driveway that curves up the hill to the little farmhouse with the porch swing still half finished, waiting to be stained in better weather before it’s hung.

 _“A king size_?” Delta repeats, as if in disbelief. Horror, even.

“Delta, for years we have been sharing a twin sized bed,” Carolina turns the sheets over on her lap, smiling and satisfied. “Now at least if we sleep on top of each other, it's by choice and not necessity.” She turns to grin at York.  “It's going to be a lot harder to push you off the bed after your bad jokes now.”

“Very well. Recalculating optimal routes to carry the bed into your bedroom.”

York pulls the truck up to the porch, backs up slowly with considerably more skill that would be expected from a veteran with one eye, and kills the engine. He leans across the cab to steal a kiss before he hops out and starts to release the ties holding the mattress and box spring down. The frame is disassembled in the bed and he hopes it’s not too tricky to put together. It's picked for promised strength and lots of good places for ties and handcuffs to go on the partially padded headboard.

Unloading the bed goes about as well as can be hoped, with York content to follow Delta’s slightly judgemental coaching and Carolina demanding to do an equal part of the grunt work. But the frame takes a bit more patience, and by the time they’re finished it’s past dinner.

York lays down flat on the floor, despite there being an unmade mattress six inches from his face. “Do we have leftovers?” he asks.

“Only of the wine. Everything else is done.  Sandwiches okay?”  Carolina leans against the doorway to keep herself from joining him on the floor.

“Sure. I promise I won’t christen the bed with crumbs. Want help, or you want me to finish making the bed?”

“I can manage.” Carolina raps her knuckles against the door frame. “What do you want, ham or turkey? Mayo or mustard? Veggies? Cheese?”

“Anything’s fine, love.” He pauses. “Cheese for sure, though. Do we still have that goat cheese?”

“We do. One surprise sandwich with goat cheese, coming up.”

Carolina doesn't bother to spend the mental energy to decide what she wants on her sandwich-- whatever goes on York's goes on hers, and she puts a little bit of everything in both.  Top piece of bread goes on, diagonal cut with a knife, and a pickle on the side completes each plate.  “How's it going in there?” Carolina calls out. “Sandwiches are ready - we've got wine or milk to go with them - I can make up more lemonade if you want.”  

York tries to anchor down the last corner of the fitted sheet for the third time. “Wine. For the cheese. And also because this bed-- looked so much better in the store.” The sheets do feel nice, though. Carolina was right to insist on what she’d picked.

He slinks back out to the kitchen in defeat and hunger, coming up behind Carolina to rest his chin on her shoulder as she washes her hands at the sink. York sighs, soaking in the heat of her body. They’ve not been out of the Project long enough, not covered their tracks long enough, not been at peace enough for this kind of simple intimacy to have lost its charm.

“Where you wanna eat? I know where I want to have my dessert, but…” he drags his lips along the shell of her ear.

Carolina gives him a fond, amused smile while she dries her hands on a towel. “Let’s eat at the table like proper tired adults, then we can go check out the new toy after.” She reaches up for a quick kiss, and it hits her anew how all these little gestures, all these little displays of affection are finally safe. After years of hiding, they could, in theory, spend an entire week together naked.  It no longer mattered to anyone but them. The thought brings a touch of colour to her cheeks, and she gives him a second kiss, just because she can.

York makes a noise of disgust, his eyes soft with affection and amusement. “Adults. _Ugh_.”

Carolina raises an eyebrow in response. “What would you prefer to be?”

“Whatever age allows for naps, right now. I spent all day being responsible.” He steals another kiss. “Which plate is mine?”  

“They are both exactly the same. I did lick one pickle, but I'm not telling you which.”  Carolina slips away from him in order to grab both plates, offering first one, then the other. “Choose wisely.”

York tilts his head to the side, studying the plates.

“ _Carolina licked the right one,_ ” comes a voice through the speakers.

Carolina rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Spoilsport.” She sets the plates at their spots at the table, the left plate at York’s seat. “You planning on ruining all my fun from here out, Delta? Oh well.” She sets her plate down as well, stepping away to grab two stemless wine glasses and the bottle from the fridge. “I can still lick York’s pickle after we’re done.”

“He just likes me the best, I guess,” and he pats the wall affectionately on his way to his seat; as though Delta can feel the gesture through all the sensors and surveillance he’s threaded through the house, wires like arteries, trusting the AI to keep them safe as they sleep. He grins, holds her eye and slides his pickle in his mouth, mimicking a blow job.

Carolina winks. “Don't give me ideas or I'll be eating my dinner under the table and you'll likely choke on your sandwich.”

York waits for Carolina to sit and pass him a drink before he takes a bite.

His eyes flutter in a sigh. “God, I love planet-side food so much. Can’t wait ‘til next spring when we can start growing our own.”

“You ever have a garden, York?” Carolina takes a bite of her own sandwich.  “We never did. My family moved around too much. There was a good chance that we wouldn't live in the same place to reap anything we planted in the spring.” Another bite and a pause while she chews. “We did get lucky once, and a place we moved to had melon vines growing in the backyard and sunflowers the size of tires. They were so beautiful. Until the squirrels got them anyway.”

“Window boxes was about it. Houseplants too.” York takes a massive bite from his pickle, savoring the crunch. “I’d pinch spiderlings from the nurseries at the supermarket and grow them at home. Mom used to be really good at them, at making plants from cuttings the neighbors gave us; I don't know if I got her green thumb or not. Been too long. Forgot to check in town for a nursery.”

There's a beat of silence, then -- “Oh, _nurseries._ For _plants_ … sorry, just for a second, thou-- just got confused.”  There's a touch of pink in her cheeks as she shakes her head and takes her next bite.

York stares at her, food entirely forgotten halfway to his mouth, his heart racing in his throat.

Carolina takes another bite, then catches a glimpse of his face.  “You okay, York?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He sets his sandwich down, picks it back up again. “Uh. Plants. Do you--” he tries desperately not to think of other seed he’d like to plant in her, “--have any thoughts on what you wanna grow? If there's stuff you want that's not in our zone, I can make a greenhouse. I think?”

“Um. What's easy? Aside from you.” Carolina gives him a wink that is absolutely obscene. “I've heard carrots are easy. And cucumbers? Zucchini?”

“It’s, uh, gonna depend on soil or something. And the heat.” He swallows, then takes in her plant choices. “... You forgot eggplant, if you were aiming for phallic.”

Carolina snorts. “Would you believe it was unintentional?” Carolina sucks gently on the end of her pickle, slurping noisily as she pulls it back out of her mouth.

“With you?” Her taunting seems to coast right over him, voice staying perfectly level; in reality he’s already past the shock of early arousal. “Nothing is unintentional. Eat your dinner. We still have a bed to test out, and you’re making me want to fuck you over the table. Which we eat on.”

Carolina gives him a desert-dry look.  “You _eat me out._ I'm not sure what's suddenly making you squeamish.  She lifts her wine  glass, swirling the liquid inside to enjoy the colour. “But as you wish.”  She holds eye contact as she sips the wine.

“I'm just saying, if we break it, we’re either gonna have to drive all the way back into town, two and a half hours away, or we’re gonna eat standing until I find a way to fix it. And it's different when it’s fresh.”

“I'll take your word for it.” Carolina crosses her legs and leans back in her chair, idly kicking one leg, just enough to bring his attention to it. “Almost done?”

York sighs and takes his last couple bites, chewing slowly. “You’re so bossy,” he says, nothing but long-suffering affection behind it, and he chugs his wine. “Come help me with the last fitted sheet corner?”

“That's because I'm the boss,” Carolina replies smugly, then pauses. “Was the boss.” There's another pause as she mentally shifts gears again.  “Yeah, I'd be only too happy to corner you in the bedroom.  Hand me your plate first though, these will only take a second to clean.”

Washing the plates gives Carolina an extra few seconds to get her thoughts back in order. The truth is - she misses leading a team. She doesn't miss the Project, doesn't miss risking her life and the lives of her teammates. But she _does_ miss the feeling of satisfaction of quarterbacking missions, of thinking on the fly and knowing her team so well that she can lay them out exactly where needed and see everything fall into place.  She misses standing out, if she's honest. She misses being the best of the best and the recognition that came along with it. Those days are gone, and it is only just starting to dawn on her that they will never come again.  

Carolina dries the dishes, catching York's eye as she puts them away in the cupboard and her thoughts begin to slide away. To one person at least, she will always be the best, not for what she was, but because of who she is. York more than balances it all out.

He waits for her to finish her task, refilling his empty wine glass with water from the sink. “You’re still the boss, ‘Lina bean. You know that.”

That deserves the grateful kiss he gets, and she relaxes into it, letting her past fall away in favour of this present. “Boss says it's time to fix the bed,” she finally says once they part.

“Yes, ma’am.”

They head back to the bedroom and Carolina holds one of the corners down while York finally works the last one around the mattress. Then the sheets, the comforter, and both pillows; all in vivid shades of russet and gold, a union of two of their colors. It’s not as neat as the display had looked in the store, but here no one can stop them from belly-flopping down onto it with a puff.

York moans into the bedding. “Oooohhh, it feels so good.”

“Mmmpf,” Carolina agrees into a pillow. “And it's sooo big.” She gives him a wink as she rolls onto her back, spreading both arms to gauge the size of the bed, and it is a distance both to the edge of the bed and York. “Whoa. I'm pretty sure you're in a different postal code on that side.”

“You're so far away,” he laments. York rolls over to cozy up to her, kissing her on the cheek. Flopping onto his back again next to her, he spreads out again, arms outstretched above their as though ready to make a snow angel. “It's nice, though. God. I almost want a map.”

“You know, it almost seems a waste. Only in the sense of… I mean… how much time are we going to spending on here with one of us on top of the other?”  Carolina rolls over again to get close enough to sit up and straddle him, to make her point. “See?  All this room… however will we use it all?” She leans down until their noses touch, smile and eyes both an invitation.

Still spread-eagle, York’s eyes darken. “Well, I mean. It's a four post bed. Could tie me up four ways, for one.”

“Mmm.”  Carolina plays idly with hem of his shirt, just enough to let a finger occasionally brush against his skin beneath. “That does sound good. I have to admit I love the idea of you laid out like that, helpless and all for me.”  Carolina rolls off him again without warning, hitting the mattress already laughing.

“York, has it really sunken in for you? I mean, look at us…” Carolina throws her arms to the side and accidentally smacks him in the ribs. “Oops, sorry.  I mean - after all this time.. _all this time_ …”

She rolls back toward him again, eyes shining. “We don't have to hide anymore. We don't have to _worry_ anymore. We can do _anything._ No one gets a say but us. No one can interfere. It's just you and me, York.” Carolina catches his hand in hers as she flops back over again, grinning at the ceiling. “You and me and the rest of our lives together.  And the loudest sex we can manage.”

He stays where he is, letting his thoughts and his body sink into the soft sheets. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice soft and reverent. “We made it.”

York squeezes her hand and closes his eyes.

They lay like that in silence for a while in their own thoughts, content to simply be, squeezing each other's hands once in a while when they feel the need to ground themselves in the present. Finally Carolina props herself up on her elbow, face serious and a little uncertain. “York, I've been thinking…”  She slows to a stop, unsure how to go on.

“Yes, my love?” he asks, tilting his head to face her; rolling onto his side to see her better, give her his full attention.

“The wedding…”  Carolina pauses again.  “You do still want to get married, right?”

“Again? Yes.” He reaches for her, gently pulls out the simple chain suspending a ring of twisted wire around her neck. “Of course it’s going to be tricky, since our families are-- a little scattered right now. But… I’d like real rings. A ceremony.”

Carolina reaches out to brush her fingers across his cheek. “I want to do it soon. We can gather people together and do something more once things have settled further, but I don't know how long that will take, and I'm done putting our lives on hold for other people.” Carolina can't stop tears from picking at her eyes as she continues. “Right here. Let's do it here, out back of the house. I'm sure can find someone to officiate.  Think North and South would come out to be witnesses?” The first tear finally runs down her cheek. “I want you, York. I want to have you in every way I can. I'm tired of waiting.”

York sits up to crawl over to her, coax her onto her back to lay on top of her and start kissing her cheeks. “We can have D start pulling the strings for us in the morning. Start shopping for rings. A dress. I think-- I think a different location than here would be good, though. Not sure if I’m ready for anyone to know where we live yet, but we can start putting some pieces in order. Okay?”

“Okay.” His weight on top of her is calming, and makes it all the more noticeable just how comfortable the mattress is beneath her. “I know that this might be tricky anywhere but here, but… I want to make sure that Delta is included somehow. Not necessarily like, a part of the ceremony, but just, he should be there.  I don't want to just leave him behind at the house. I'm sure you both have time to think up something.”

Carolina pulls York in for a slow gentle kiss. “You know what I'm looking forward to?” she asks, their lips brushing.  “Tomorrow morning. Waking up next to you. _On this bed_.” Some of the seriousness leaks back out of her and Carolina laughs with quiet delight.

“Yeah,” he agrees, dragging his lips against hers, tempting her with a kiss he denies her. “No more mats on the floor. Just hope it's not too soft and we can’t get to sleep. Better make sure we’re good and tired, then, right?”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Carolina lifts her legs on either side of him, penning him in. “A nice workout could lead to a really satisfying… night's sleep.” She looks from York’s eyes to his lips and back, biting her lip as she wiggles slightly beneath him.  

“Let's get under these sheets, then, if we can ever find our way to the edges of this bed.” He rolls her on top of him then rolls again, over and over until he can find the edge and help her to her feet, whisking the blankets back and starting to strip Carolina.

The first real kick of arousal comes as York pulls her shirt off over her head and Carolina goes straight for his pants.  His belt comes off with a satisfying whisking sound, and Carolina wraps it back behind his waist to pull him roughly against her.  “I did say I want you in every -- way-- possible--” Carolina punctuates her words with kisses, each more heated than the last. She leans forward to nuzzle at York’s neck, refusing to drop the belt.

“Well, you _are_ the boss.” He slides his fingers down the back of her pants, shamelessly palming her ass and feeling more skin than he’d expected. Heart racing, he traces his fingers up her spine to unhook her bra. One of their earlier splurge purchases with their military money, he’d gotten her a lacy matching lingeries set with tiny panties. She’s wearing it now. “... glad I didn't know you were wearing this when we were shopping. Would have been hard to keep up the professionalism with sooooo many beds to fuck you on. So many closets. So tempting to sneak a taste of you right there.”

Carolina brings one leg up to rub against York's thigh.  “From now on, as soon as we are in public, I will make sure to tell you when I'm wearing them.  I want to see you sweat, York. I want to see you squirm minute to minute as you try to keep control. Next time we go for a grocery run, maybe I won't wear any at all. And a long skirt.  Just so you know at any time you _could_ lift it and fuck me against the produce…”  

She grins evilly as she finally tosses the belt aside and starts on the button of his jeans. “Don't worry, I'll let you push the cart so you can hide your erection. But I _will_ walk next to you and talk dirty to you the whole time so it never goes down.”

York makes a low, needy noise and pushes her back into the bed, crawling on top of her and shoving a hand down the front of her pants. He finds her slick and ready for him and he kisses her, hard and hungry. “You’d like that, wouldn't you? You like to know that you’ve got me on such-- such a leash that I’d beg for you?” He starts to rub at her clit, fast and efficient little motions that have her writhing under his touch. “I’d want you to ride me in the front seat of the truck as soon as we got to the parking lot. Shit suspension like that, everyone’d know. Hell-- if it wasn't the only good place within half a day's drive I’d take you there anyway, fuck you in the back aisles just before close when the crowds are thin.”

It's Carolina’s turn to moan, but her words come out soft and thoughtful. “A leash… I kinda like the sound of that.  A collar for sure.  I'd love to see you wear one and nothing else.” Carolina reaches up to trace a line across York’s throat with her finger.  “Hmmm. Maybe I'd even make you wear the collar out of the house.  Fully dressed. In public. Collar.  Just so everyone knows you are owned.  That I own you. _You are mine_.”

The last words are lustful, but the smile that follows is pure joy. He really is. He is hers, she is his, and the entire world can know.  Carolina pulls him in for an exuberant kiss, wraps her arms around his neck, and then shivers and gasps as his fingers change their movements.

“I’ll put it on the list,” he mutters, pulling back to watch her face flush as he plunges two fingers into her, fighting the waistband of her pants for better leverage. He can’t move his wrist like he’d like so he settles for almost fluttering the digits inside of her, stimulating her inner lips with more of an up and down rather than an in and out motion. The chain around his neck he plays with, biting his lip and pulling lightly on the ring. “Property of Agent Carolina.”

It's getting harder to concentrate on witty repartee as he continues to touch her, his eyes burning into her face   it's hard to think of anything outside this bed they are sharing but one last thing does come to her mind before everything else shuts down.

“York -- before we get too--” She groans and nearly gives up, but makes another try.  “Before we get too crazy, one last thing. Wait--”

He slows, but doesn’t stop entirely; leaves his fingers inside of her, cupping her pubic bone with his palm. “Yeah?” he asks, hoarse and breathless.

“Just…” Shit. She doesn't know how to say this at all. “Still no signs that the injection has worn off, but… just want to make sure you're okay in the off chance we might have to, you know, return my wedding dress for a bigger size, different style in case we need to accommodate… I mean, the chance is terribly slim but we could use a condom if you don't want to risk it yet.”

York’s face goes blank, and he eases his hand out of her underwear. His eyes flick down to her lower stomach, and he drags his clean fingers across the skin there. “You want kids?”

“If I can have them.” Carolina manages to keep her voice from breaking, but it’s close. “Yes.” She touches his cheek with trembling hands and her next words come out as a whisper. “I want everything with you.”

He meets her gaze. “If-- if it’s too soon after, but you conceive anyway, would it-- Delta,” and his voice raises, sharpening in urgency. “Delta, do you have any knowledge of this injection and birth defects? Or how long it’s been?”

_“I would need to access UNSC files to be exactly sure, but as a rule birth control does not cause birth defects. And according to my internal clock, Carolina’s last shot was six months, three weeks and approximately 14 hours ago.”_

“Dismissed,” he says to Delta, eyes still on Carolina’s face, letting her search his gaze and see how badly, how frighteningly badly he wants this too as he lays her back down with the utmost reverence.

“I have names picked,” he says, very softly, as he starts to inch her pants down her legs. “Mostly girls, though. Always hoped we’d have daughters.”

Carolina raises her legs to help him ease her clothes off, watches him remove his own shirt, breaking eye contact only as he pulls it over his head.  “I'll do my best, then.” God, she loves him. She loves how intensely soft he can be, the fact that he can even make that possible. “Though actually, that's kinda decided by you. Your… half of the equation.”

Grabbing her by the thighs, York eases Carolina a little higher up onto the bed, tossing away her socks. “Yeah, I’ve asked my dick real nicely,” he says, cracking a grin despite his efforts to stay straight-faced. “Maybe you should ask it. It pays more attention to what you want than it does me, sometimes.”

Carolina gives him a pitying smile. “I'll ask your testicles instead. But for the record, I do love getting mouthy with your dick.” Her expression changes, growing softer.  “York…”

“Yeah?” he asks, holding himself over her, still smiling.

Carolina takes his face in her hands, heart fluttering in her chest. “I'm ready for you. For this.” She raises her head to touch her forehead to his. “I love you.”

It never fails to make his heart race when he hears her like that and knows it’s true. That she loves him and wants him, just as he loves and wants her. There’s not much he can say to that other than a murmured, “I love you too,” and guides himself inside of her.

Carolina gasps as York begins to slide himself into her. This feels different. Everything they do now they have done a hundred times before but this time is still different. There's something more now - this freedom they never had before, and this new possibility hanging over their bed.  Maybe it is that awareness that makes this feel so new, as though he is only now just touching her for real, for the very first time.

Carolina runs her hands up his arms with dream-like slowness. “York… _yes._ ”

He can’t tear his eyes away from where their bodies meet, from where she’s swallowing him up inch by velvet inch; can hardly breathe from how she’s clenching around him as if to draw him in faster. Tears prick at his eyes as he bottoms out, finally meeting her gaze.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, Carolina.” Possibility is heavy and thick on his tongue, sweet like honey, deadly like poison. He drinks it down and moans as he shifts inside her, not ready to start thrusting yet but it’s so good it feels unreal. The sheets, the little bit of awkward tan she’s sporting from wearing t shirts in the sun, the blooming of long-forgotten freckles on his arms as he holds himself over her. For a moment, it’s hard to believe it’s real. Hard to accept that they really did make it out of the Project.

York’s elbows buckle, and he crushes his mouth against hers, burying himself inside her until they’re so close it’s almost hard to breathe.

If they didn't go further, if they didn't ever move past this moment, alive and free in each other's arms, she would be content. Already this is more than she had dreamed of, more than she ever dared hope for.

Tears are streaming freely down her face, and she isn't sure they are all hers. York is nearly crushing the air out of her, but she needs him even closer, and clutches him to her with equal strength. The sound she makes is pure want, and she pulls back just enough to see his eyes crack open and meet hers before she begins to move.

He presses his face against the side of her neck and gasps, falling into the slow pace she sets with hitching breaths and desperate hands. “I love you, I love you, we made it, this is ours, I’m yours and no one else's,” and dozens of other whispered promises, half for her benefit and half for his. For all his confidence, it doesn’t feel real sometimes to have pulled it off; he finds himself spending sleepless hours in some corner of the house, whispering to Delta and listening to statistics and certainties until his mind stops spinning and he can creep back to Carolina’s sleeping side. This bed, he hopes, is the start of the end, the true final pages in his life with the Project, the epilogue to a life of uncertainty in someone else’s hands.

“Can you--” he almost laughs in the middle of his request, pulling back with tear-filled eyes and unable to read Carolina’s expression. “Can you ride me? The sheets are so slippery, I can’t keep my knees under me like I’m used to.”

“Of course.” God, has she ever felt this tender in her life? Is it possible she could ever love him more than she does right now?  “But can I ask a favor in return? When you're close… when you're ready, flip us back over? So it can stay? As long as possible?”

“Yeah, yes, ab--” he shivers. “Absolutely.”

Carolina doesn't wait for him to move, simply rolls them both as easily as she ever did sparring.  She tries to be careful sitting up, but she feels him slip out regardless. She doesn't care though, because as she guides him back in, sliding down his shaft to bottom out, she gets to watch York's eyes flutter closed and feels rather than hears the groan that escapes him.  She starts to move on him, starts to ride him and in seconds her moans echo his.  Her hands fall to his chest to brace herself as she moves, and she picks up speed, gasping with the pleasure of him.

It’s hard to see her with the blurriness in his eyes but closing them is unthinkable; York tries to feel her instead, hands tracing the lines of her thighs to her hips, her ribs, her breasts and neck and down her arms to hold her hands, coax her to trust him to hold her up palm to palm with their fingers entwined. This is the first real sex they’ve had in weeks, so busy with running and repairs to do much more than quick, tag-teamed rounds of oral or handjobs when they were sleeping in shifts or sleepy frottage to wear the other out at night.

It’s so many firsts, wrapped into one, and it’s sinking into his bones like alcohol, like the champagne they’d chugged all those months ago and made their first promises in a borrowed bed for a night like this. York is getting drunk off it, drunk off her, and when his near-sobs start to melt into throaty moans he doesn’t hold back.

“Caro-- ohhhh, Carolina, god, yes-- love you, fuck, fuck me, ahhh--! You’re so good, so good to me, and I-- fff-fuck, god, oh, ohhhhhh, yes.”

York's voice, low and desperate, sets a fire in her.  Seeing him uninhibited and so vocal pushes her, makes her want to push him more. “This good, York? This what you dreamed of all those years? Is this what you planned for us?” She tightens her fingers in his, her hips moving like waves crashing on his shore.  “I want to make them all come true, York. All your plans. All your dreams.”

She lowers herself to him, lips hovering over his as she twists his hand with hers, coaxing it up to cup her breast, her hand guiding his over it. “Even all your wet ones. I want to fuck you in every room of this house. Against every wall and on every floor. I want you to mount me in the grass in the backyard, like I'm in heat. Because the way I feel right now, York, looking at you, hearing you, the way I want you to fuck me absolutely senseless… I just might be.”

York wails, back arching as he bites his tongue and then rolls them, so hard and fast it gets a startled yip out of Carolina. He reaches down and grabs the base of his cock, tightening his grip to cut of his orgasm as he gasps for air, whole body shuddering. “God-- damn--” he manages, still so turned on he’s shaking. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?”  Carolina brushes his hair back, eyes full of concern. He nods, closes his eyes and mouth to swallow, then fixes her with a gaze so intense that her breath catches.

“You know,” York says carefully, voice deep and wavering like a bass line, “this bed is-- probably easier on your knees than the grass if you-- if you want me to fuck you from behind. What do-- what do you think?” he asks, hand sliding from the base of his dick to the head to catch precum threatening to fall.

Carolina doesn't waste a second - she is up, pivoting on her knees to turn away.  She leans down on her elbows, then turns her head back to face him, eyes smoldering. “Fuck me, York.” She reaches back to snag his hand, pressing it to her hip and leans forward as though to drag him closer.  “Mate me.”

There’s no room in his head for witty one-liners, no thought or desire other than the need to be inside Carolina in the basest way possible, be as close to her as he can and drown himself in her. York’s first thrust is hard enough she jolts forward on the bed; he grabs the headboard with one hand and uses it as leverage, holding her hips against his with the other.

“Shit-- aaaahhh, oh, _damn_ that’s-- tell me that’s good for you too, ‘lina, please, because it’s-- god, you know how tight you feel? Wish I could be-- in your head so you could feel this too,” he gasps, already so close he’s gabbling nonsense, running his hand all over her body and eventually stroking her clit. “Just-- fffuck, lemme show you, c’mere.”

York leans down to press his chest against her shoulders, settling for a deep steady rocking motion rather than a full thrust so she can feel the way his heart hammers in his ribcage.

“This is for you, Carolina, it’s-- it’s yours,”

“Mine. Your heart, your -- you --”  Her voice is low and feral and she arches against him, moves against his rhythm to take him even deeper, gasping as he lights her up with every thrust. “God, York - you're so good, so deep…”  Carolina reaches back to wind her fingers through his hair. “More York, don't hold back. I want all of you. I want to hear you, want to feel you fall to pieces. Fuck me, York.” She pushes her hips down slightly, to change the angle. “Fill me.”

He presses his face against her shoulder, smearing frantic kisses against her skin as he fucks her, as she fucks herself on him. “Love you, love you-- this is always, okay, forever in all directions, I--” The way she feels under him is so good he’s losing his mind but it’s not enough until he tilts her face to his and kisses her.

“Carolina--” and the hand on her jaw jumps to her breast, slides down to her hip--

“Carolina--” he lets go of the headboard to pull her even closer, lining them up from neck to knee--

“Carolina--” like a prayer, like a promise, sweet and gentle as he presses his palm against her lower stomach. “Come for me?”

She drops her hand from where it had been gripping his hair, moving instead to press against his where he cradles her womb.  “York-- god -- yes…” She writhes against him, keening as he pushes her closer and closer to the edge.  

He adjusts his hand so he can stroke her clit, then bares one canine and bites her in the back of her neck, just sharp enough to sting.  Carolina’s wails drop to low gasping moans as she drops to the mattress, then choke off almost completely as she comes. “Yes...oh god York…” She can barely hear herself, is barely aware of anything but his cock, ploughing her through her orgasm.

York clutches Carolina to him, as tight around her as she is around him, falling over the edge with her. He presses his forehead into her shoulder, voice rising and breaking as he comes, an inarticulate string of sounds loud enough to hurt his throat in places. He shakes around her as she tightens around him for the last time, and gradually catches his breath.

“You okay? S’good?”  Carolina can't work up enough energy to turn her head away from the pillow to speak clearer. She heaves a sigh, comfortable and warm under his weight. “You're so g’damn good, York.”  

York runs his hands up and down her sides in sweeping movements, soaking in every second he can inside her. There’s still stars on the edges of his vision from his orgasm and he drags his lips up her spine.

“Very,” he murmurs, letting his heartbeat slow. “God… I wanna stay in you forever.”

“Mmm.” As much as she wants to sleep right now, there is a very familiar problem that is about to arise. But this time, the solution will be quite different. Carolina manages to lift her head up enough to drag her pillow out from underneath it, letting her head fall back to the mattress in a slightly less comfortable position. “Ugh. York? Something we gotta take care of, sweetheart.” Carolina shifts back against him to take him a little bit deeper one last time and grins at how it makes him moan.

“I mean, you can take your time for a bit, but when you're ready to pull out, help me turn over quick, okay?  Something we gotta do. You might not be able to stay in me forever, but there's a small chance that part of you might stay for nine months.”

That gets his attention, and jerks him out of his hazy afterglow state; the brightness and the chipper mood linger, but now he’s awake. “Anything,” he promises, and eases himself out.

“Take this - keep it next to you, I'll need it.” Carolina hands him the pillow, and obediently, York puts it aside in easy reach. “Okay, I'm going to need you to help me roll over. Don't worry, nothing's wrong… but if I tighten up my core at all I might start leaking.  Best we do this fast -- all you have to do is turn my hips over, lift them slightly and shove a pillow under me. Got it? The angle will keep everything in.” Carolina freezes for a second.  “Shit, I can feel... shit shit shit York, turn me over--”

It was easy sometimes in the Project to forget just how strong her teammates were.  It was something that she took into consideration when she fought them, or led them, but it was more of a statistic, a necessary factor she needed to add to an equation. It took Maine lifting a Warthog singlehandedly to press the reminder home, or seeing South carrying Connie over her shoulder and half dragging, half-helping North from the field.

It hits her in a different way now, as York takes her by the hip and shoulder and rolls her effortlessly over. It only takes another second for him to lift her, hand tucked under the very base of her back, to place the pillow, and as he leans back to make sure she's okay. Carolina reaches out to run her hand up his arm, her eyes over his chest and thighs. He's so strong but so unbelievably gentle with her, and she can easily imagine his arms holding an infant, or his shoulders carrying a child. The image takes her breath and she glides her hand back down to his. “Lay down with me?”

Whether it was an order or not, he obeys immediately, fitting himself to her side and holding her hand and resting it over her lower stomach; a gesture he’s done before, but with new meaning now. “How’s it feel?” York asks, studying her face as much as he can so close.

“It shouldn't feel any different.” Carolina tightens her fingers against his, leans her head to nuzzle him. “I mean, we so rarely used condoms on the ship. This was our normal. But it does - it feels different. Maybe that shouldn't be surprising, considering everything we've been through, we are planetside again with a kind of gravity we aren't used to, new air, new bed, new… everything. It does feel different. It feels beautiful.” Carolina turns her head to press her lips to his, gentle and peaceful, perfect in this moment. When they part, the kiss seems to linger between them, even as York tucks his head against her neck.

“No matter what, you have me. Forever. Just this…” he slides their hands up to her chest, settles them over her heart. “This is all I need.”

“I know. And you will always have it.” But God she hopes she can give him more.

He nestles in beside her, closing those scant inches of space between their bodies. “So… we go to sleep like this?”

“Maybe in a minute. But you really should find a towel or something to tuck between my legs won't have to worry about leaks then.” Carolina shivers at a puff of his breath on her bare shoulder. “And we should probably pull up the blankets, too.”

York sighs, and then groans “oh, fuck, the sheets” or “oh, fuck the sheets.” One of the two. It's hard to tell when they're both that tired, but he does bother to get up and slink to the bathroom. Returning with towels, he crawls back into bed and helps Carolina get it settled before burying them both with blankets above their heads.

“Give me about…. oh, twenty minutes and I can warm you up again,” he purrs, nuzzling her breasts in the darkness.

“I thought you were tired,” Carolina teases, stoking the back of his neck as York drags his lips over her chest.  “Shit, I thought I was tired.” She grips his hair, shaking his head so gently side to side. “You're getting me all wound up again, and tomorrow we have to--” Carolina freezes as it sinks in yet again.  They don't have to do anything.

Technically that's not true - they have a to-do list as long as her arm, and she wants to make sure they have a proper breakfast for once. She wants to work on all these projects and errands that will make this feel less like a hideout and more like a home. But… they don't have to be up at 0500 hours anymore. They don't need to be on a track, a range, a sim floor. They don't have to report to anyone, talk to anyone, see anyone. They can sleep in. They can make love now, or in the morning, halfway through breakfast, whenever they want.  

“On your back, York.” Her voice comes out soft but is an unmistakable command. She rolls over on top of him, tossing the towel aside as she straddles his waist. She feels a bit of semen leaking out but doesn't care, it will probably be replaced tonight anyway. “Relax.”

Carolina lowers herself to brush her lips against York's throat. “I can finally do this now.” She finds a spot high on his neck, prominent and unmissable, and starts to suck.

He sighs under her, completely swept up in bliss. Her hair is a sex-tangled mess, catching on his fingers as he tries to comb through it,   he laughs. “Gotta make a trip into town tomorrow, then, to show this off.”

Carolina pauses to moan into his throat. “Goddamit York. You'll have to wait until later in the day because now I am going to spend all night marking you up. Fuck…”

“Take your time. And you know what?” He coaxes her up so he can look her in the eye, finding the memory of her features in the sheet-darkened silhouette of her face and grinning. “Whenever you’re ready, I'll fill you up so deep with so much of my come, it won’t matter how much leaks out. I'll make you _overflow_ with it.”

Carolina locks up. It isn't merely what York says, but the way he says it - the lazy lilt to his voice, paired with that insolent, confident gaze that the darkness under the sheet can't hide.  This, paired with the image he has painted for her so vividly, leaves her winded.

“But I can't - I can't even…”  Indignation knits her back up, and she throws back the sheet to see him better.  “You say that to me, and I’m _naked_ and already straddling you. You've already fucked me once, _your come is still leaking out of me_ . And you say something like that and I'm so _fucking turned on_ but we’re already in bed!” She glowers down at him.  “I can't rip your clothes off, I can't fuck you against the wall, I can't drag you down to the floor or throw you onto the bed.” She can't even grab him by the front of his shirt to pull him closer, to make the full weight of her displeasure known. “What the hell do I do now?”

She leans forward to poke a finger into his chest, eyes boring holes into him. “You said it, and I _want_ it. You better be able to deliver, York, or I will take it from you myself. Milk. You. Dry.”

He actually laughs out loud at her, the ass. “Whatever you want, boss,” and he throws his arms around her neck to kiss the indignant out of her, rolling her onto her side so they can cuddle properly.

His kisses warm and relax her, and her fatigue starts to once again make itself felt. It starts to become a struggle to keep her eyes open, despite her arousal. “You tired too?”

“Could go either way. Just wanted you close. And have you stop dripping all over me.” York reaches down to his damp skin and holds her gaze as he licks his fingers. “Mmmm. Gotta say, I think the better food makes this taste better, too.” His next swipe he reaches between her legs and drags his wet fingers along her slit, as if trying to get those escaped drops back inside her.

“Fuck... _fuck, York…”_ Carolina’s face is on fire, eyes trying to roll back in her head. “If you are waiting for me to beg, it isn't going to happen.” Her fingers join his and when he glances down, she breaches herself with a finger. Carolina let's out a deliberate moan, makes a show of laying on her back and biting her lip.

He keeps it up, gentle shallow strokes alongside her penetrating digit, breathing picking up. “Nah, I'm just trying to keep you warm until I can get it back up again. Don’t need you to beg when I can feel how bad you want it. You’re getting so wet it’s a wonder if there’s much semen left in you, huh?”

“Why do I love you so much? I mean, aside from you being kind and gentle and intelligent and gorgeous and a fantastic lay...why?” Carolinas voice is a perfect mix of affection and frustration. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

Some of the teasing slips away. York sits up on one elbow to kiss her. “Everything. Nothing. I’ve loved you since I met you. You don't have to do or be anything but yourself to have me.” It's a simple premise but tricky to articulate; a large part of their careers were spent being cut down to their fundamental skills and weighed accordingly. If she still thinks as though his heart is a leaderboard and wants to know why she’s at the top, he can’t blame her. That kind of thinking is hard to shake. “You’re so much already; you're brave, persistent, passionate, thoughtful, sweet, have the best laugh I’ve ever heard and thighs that I have watched crush _bones_. I love you, Carolina, and I’m just as lucky to have you. As for why you love me, well… maybe I just love you so much that loving me back is easy.” Another stolen kiss, another smile. “No matter why, I’m grateful.”

Carolina kisses him again, because there is nothing she could possibly say to match him, and her kisses are far more eloquent than she can manage right now. She removes her finger as discreetly as possible, wiping their mixed fluids on her own leg before before pulling him closer, rolling him on top of her. She doesn't make any further effort towards lust, just holds him in her arms and kisses him as though she means to all night.

“Man, we really can just roll around forever on this bed, huh? It's so _big_.” York settles on top of her, returning her kisses between playful commentary. “Almost wanna stay awake just to enjoy it, you know? But--” he stifles a yawn against her shoulder. “The mind and libido are willing, but the body is reminding me we’ve been dozing on a field mattress since we left the ship.”

“Mmm.” Carolina stretches one last kiss as long as she can. “Okay. Go to sleep.  Have sweet dreams about us and this bed and this house and everything that comes next. Then when we wake up, I'll help make them all come true.”  Carolina tilts her head back to kiss York’s eyes.

“Love you,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes closed as he adjusts to lay next to her, wrapping around her protectively and letting out a deep breath.

“Love you too.”  It only takes one deep sigh for Carolina to shrugs off wakefulness, to relax against his body and feel herself start to drift.

  



End file.
